104 
THE ORIENTAL ANNUAL, 
And near him in close ambuscade 
The subtle crocodile is laid; 
Like a trunk, bare, leafless, brown, 
By the tempest shock o’erthrown. 
Moveless on the bank he lies 
With glittering and watchful eyes. 
Demon of cruelty and fear, 
Alas ! thy prey is near. 
* * * * * 
Zeida hath laid her basket down. 
Her offering to the sacred river ; 
No tears even yet her eye doth own, 
But every feeble limb doth quiver; 
And sobs, each like a dying gasp. 
Burst from that agonized breast. 
To which, with strong and straining clasp. 
The hapless babe is pressed. 
A smile across its features plays 
Unconsciously — and now another. 
Answering the miserable gaze 
Of that most wretched mother. 
* * * * * 
A thrill of anguish shook her frame. 
Then, a brief frenzy on her came. 
The thin veil from her head she tore, 
And the poor infant round and round 
In the soft gauzy folds she wound. 
That soon its struggles might be o’er. 
And with quick steps, though each one sank 
In the green oozy river bank, 
